Upheaval
by Glacious
Summary: Where Naruto's dream dies with him, and Sakura is all that stands between Konoha and oblivion. Post 4th war. Mostly canon compliant. Sakura centric.


**Naruto and its characters are the exclusive property of Masashi Kishimoto. I make no money off this and am merely using it to practice my writing.****  
**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

This is how she remembered it: the stench of death that emanated from his garb staled the night air, and in the fluttering film of light—careless exhalations of the moon; sight a cruel boon callously granted— that like mist suffused the milky sky, that curdled eye dappled with streaks of red his sweaty face but dripped out nary a tear; for, the shower of sentiment, she later realized, had sluiced down the sink of his stained soul, eventually creeping through the creaking pipes of his constitution and making its way, as a mere tributary, to the roiling sea of hate boiling in _his_ blood, bubbling within _his_ very bones.

Naruto, she had comprehended then, numbly, Naruto was dead: he had paid a heavy toll for holding against his bosom this adder, for letting fester within his soul the fungus of concern for a false friend; and as his murderer stumbled away in a daze, it dully occurred to her that she ought to do something—stop him, perhaps, or give in to her spasming wrist and end forever their one sided tryst—but as Kakashi had fallen to his feet, as _he_ had deigned to turn around and treat her to a glance gilded with guilt, she had found herself unable to move, unable to do anything beyond spitting out a spiteful _you monster, _before the dam broke and a springtide of shameful tears tenderly abated the private hell of her agony.

Everything after that was a blur. Sasuke had, somehow, at some point, escaped. She remembered being led to Naruto. Then a glimpse of tangled, eerily angled feet; the feverish feel of pallid skin; the frantic, yet futile, search for a pulse. In the backdrop, the dulcet hum of a lark that swept through the skies in a rotund arc and rejoiced, in the dreary dusk, that it was free, eternally, from the taint of an infinite tsukuyomi. That sound, sweeter to the sense than the faint fragrance that emanated from a musk rose, had made the final semblance of rationality furtively stalking the bars of her mind ponder the irony, the utter fucking irony, of the moment; then it broke free, broke away momentarily from the monotony of her mortal coil, and made to flee.

Oh, how she howled! How her tipsy world let rip from its throbbing throat an answering howl! From its fragile fingers slipped a wineglass that spilled across the blackened grass the nectar of insanity; before, in a tribute to inanity, her world, her whole world! tripped, turned upside down— cackling, bumbling, crumbling! And down she went too, flapping and flailing, down, down— then removed her gory fingers from the corpse and spun for her hair a crimson crown. A queen! a grotesque queen of the dead! And despair, bridesmaid to loss, raised a racket in her lead encased heart, bedecked her bluish visage in the raiments of a quivering frown—sorrow's footman! That Sasuke ruined everything, everything! in the span of ten sordid minutes, ten minutes she'd slept through, insensate, in a timeless world that his genjutsu had banished her to, was so precious, so precious, so—

The image of the cracked paper weight she gripped in her fist dissolved, blurred by the tears threatening to spill through her lashes. Hardening her heart, she let her mind dissolve her memories from that fateful night. If what they said about him was true, then she had made a terrible mistake letting Sasuke live. But that— that was love's last mercy that she, lovesick, had produced for him. And he? He left her lovelorn, clutching against her bosom a cradle where she still, on some nights, sadly rocked a stillborn babe— its clod coagulated veins a testament to unreciprocated passions, unfulfilled friendships, unaccomplished dreams. She was a victim of her wretched heart, her quiescent kindness, her humble upbringing, her former insecurities! And as it was she that had let him live, it fell to her to avenge the dead, to carry forth Naruto's ideal in his stead.

The schemes of her former lover were hers to crush, for she hated him now more than she loved him once. He was a scavenger that had survived on scraps of Konoha's pity and Naruto's piety; the flashy life that he had at the behest of the village led was a product of their charity rather than his ingenuity. In confusing the two and spitting in the face of that charity; in cutting the cord of friendship and removing from the face of the earth her best friend— whose pallid aspect post death, to this day, troubled her memory— he had removed too from her brain the tumour of his love. His actions had evoked in her such a fury, that it would only be sated when she shattered his skull, cleaved his bosom with a bloody stroke; scattered through that scarred land he now occupied as tyrant the vulgar remains of his carcass; made craven the graves of his clan by sprinkling over their ivy wrought stones the lifeblood of the puerile man who had claimed from her her friend, her love, her life. This was her destiny; this, her demented dream.

She walked to the edge of her office, located a floor below the Hokage's office, and stared contemplatively at the faces carved into the monument. They had made one for Naruto too, though he never got the hat, for he'd loved the village the most and loved it true—he was a hero. Thus, Kakashi-sensei had, by decree, demanded that the visage of his student be made an eternal memory, free to preside over his beloved village, watch over and protect his motherland. It was the least they could do for him.

Sakura found herself observing that bland bust, stripped through constraint of mud and rock, of the grand goodness that had like a halo enveloped Naruto during his lifetime. Tears once more threatened to break through; there was no punishment for this fetid crime, none at all, that would entirely nurse the entire village's broken heart. Naruto—Naruto would forever be a part of their family, of her, of Konoha, of their history.

However, she thought with a sigh, she had better things to do this morning than sequester herself in her office and cry. She was now second in command to the Hokage, and it was one of her duties to supervise the workings of the hospital and step in if need be. Thankfully, that need rarely arose, as Shizune was competent at what she did, and so she was at a liberty to accomplish her other duties.

So it was now time for Sakura to do her other peace time duty, which was talk to Kakashi-sensei and ask him whom she would be training with today. It had been decided by the powers that be that she was to be their next Kage. Kakashi-sensei was, in fact, eager to transfer that hat at the earliest available opportunity.

So up the stone steps she went. The ANBU on either side of the Hokage's door gave her a nod of acknowledgement, and then she was in the office. Sensei was usually terribly busy, but he always made time for her—had, in fact, given her a specific slot, which was ten in the morning. He saw her come in and motioned that she take the chair opposite. They stared at each other a minute, neither saying a word.

"You all right?" he eventually asked, and it was sweet to see his brow crinkle in concern.

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat, "yeah, I'm fine. You look overworked though, sensei. Didn't sleep again, I suppose?" And when he shook his head, "I keep telling you, your duties can wait, but—but if something happens to you too, then…"

"It's just for a few days." Kakashi grimaced. "Sasuke has been giving us some trouble. Some skirmishes across the outskirts of Rice Country. And he—or some men of his—made a recon her and ambushed and killed some Shinobi the Raikage had sent our way, I think, to discuss the terms of a peace treaty. The fallout has been a clusterfuck. But none of that—none of that is important right now, since you are here. Let's talk about you." He leant back into his chair and sighed. Then he opened a drawer and pulled out a very familiar contract.

"The toad summoning contract?" The colour drained from Sakura's face. The memories she had shut out suddenly threatened to break through again. They had been so happy that day when he had finally beaten Pein and brought back to life the entire village, so happy after Kaguya's fall, so happy just considering the possibility that Sasuke would return with them to—

"I know," Kakashi began, taking in her reaction with a pained eye, "that he was as precious to you as to me, and that any memory associated with him is sacred and painful, something to be preserved." He coughed into his hand. "And I know what I am about to suggest might sound to you as though akin to grave robbing, however—however, life goes on. This contract is an asset of Konoha's, and in times of great need, such as right now, it is our obligation to preserve the memory of my student, your friend, by borrowing his weapons and using it to defend with fervour his motherland." He pushed the contract across the table. "I want you to consider using this."

"Why me?" The croaked words felt bile stained, chained escapees that reeked of betrayal and had broken free from her internal hell.

"Because we are on the brink of war." Kakashi said with a heavy sigh. "And if I die then it falls on you to give Konoha her due, to protect her with your life. Sasuke—Sasuke is stronger than the two of us put together. No, no, do not deny this. Even in his weakened, one eyed, one armed state, only Naruto could…

"But, importantly, I have written to the other Kage, and, unlike us, none of them seem interested in pursuing this traitor and putting him to the sword, in doing justice to the cause of justice, in even preserving the ideal of peace that Naruto gave up his live for. He is dangerous, Sakura—and so is the rest of the world. Trust no one. It will not be long before _he_ turns his sight on Konoha. And as for my discussions with Ai, they have been less than productive and put our sustained well-being at risk. But that is matter for another time.

"I do not say all this to alarm you. I know it feels unjust that the threat of war yet again looms large after everything we went through together. But unless you accept this, there is a real possibility that Konoha might not see the end of this decade."

He pushed back his chair and went to the window, leaving her speechless in his wake.

"Take the scroll," he said. "And take your time to carefully think of what your priorities are. You will be Hokage someday, child. Stew on that. I wish for you to do your duty, even if you have to harden your heart for it—but if you decide not to…then so be it. You are my student, and I will not force you. I was a shit teacher to you, so it's the least I can do. There's nothing else to say. You are dismissed."

* * *

**A/N: I am nerfing Sasuke somewhat for this work, as, without that, there would be no story. This work starts about 3-4 months post the 4th war, and we will go from there. It is (mostly) Sakura centric, with some PoVs covering Sasuke too. I am happy to answer any further queries as and when they arise. For now, this ought to be enough.**

**Cheers, and have a nice week.**


End file.
